


Everything Sucks Here

by Catkodil, Catulaster (orphan_account), orphan_account



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Abandonment, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Fallout, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Child Abandonment, Congenital analgesia, Gen, Genetic Disorders & Abnormalities, Gore, Implied/Referenced Incest, Mormonism, Mutation, Nihilism, Non-Canon Relationship, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Nuclear Warfare, Nuclear Winter, Polyamory, Polygamy, Post-Nuclear War, Post-War, Self-Harm, Survival Horror, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, War, unilateral mydriasis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-05-18 16:26:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14856165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catkodil/pseuds/Catkodil, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Catulaster, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The war to end all wars certainly did--It ended all of civilization, too.Those who survived didn't get to see what was coming.With the world now filled full of wild animals and raiders, how on Earth would children survive in the desolate wasteland?Usually, they don't-- not for long, at least.However, the world now was no longer what they once knew.





	1. "I Don't know what to do"

The morning was like any other; The bitter cold snow covered the ground for about a foot, the earth underneath barren and wet. Military issued boots that were sloppily tied trenched through the unbearably brisk and thick atmosphere. The chilling bitter winds sent shivers across his bare skin.

He moved his view to the city around him.

 

The buildings were torn, destroyed from the impact. The support beams already becoming bent from the fierce blizzards, plants taking advantage of the covering and began to fill the multiple rooms with their vines and leaves. The standing walls that had endured it all were coated with ash and nuclear waste.

 

There seemed to be absolutely no signs of life.

 

Paul a very sturdy man marched through the heavy, thick snow. Trudging through an empty city that was abandoned and consumed by the wildlife. His dusky brown eyes perked, hearing a child; a young child, tripping through the snow and letting out whimpers and grunts in frustration. 

 

Without a word, he ran towards the noise, his poor heart strained from years of smoking was pounding. He heaved over a mound of snow on the horizon, only to see a malnourished, fragile young boy.

 

Paul felt his heart ache, slowly approaching the kid.

 

"Hey… Hey there, are you okay?”

 

There was a long pause of hesitation from the boy, seeming to not fully notice the advance of the stranger. Before Paul could ask again, unsure if the shaking child had heard him, there was a meek response, something he would have easily missed in any other situation. 

 

"...T-They're gone... I'm alone, and I don't know what to do--!"

He sounded as if he were on the verge of tears, his voice shaking as his poor little hands trembled.

 

Paul shoved the thought of his partner, Patryck, to the back of his mind-- who he'd left behind after hearing the child. He took off his army coat, wrapping it around the boy before lifting him off the ground. "Shh, it’s ok, it’s ok- let's go get you something to eat... I’m Paul." 

He introduced himself as he carried the kid in the direction back to Patryck.

 

Feeling the heavy fabric wrap around him and the secure arms of Paul, the presumed orphan managed to get his bearings together for a moment. 

"T-Tord," he responded, clinging tightly to the fabric of others shirt as if it were a lifeline while they walked. 

 

"Alright, Tord-- You'll be okay."

Paul approached Patryck with an embarrassed smile. He'd just explained he didn't want kids but this... This was different!

"Hey, uh, babe; This is Tord,” He started, barely knowing anything about the boy.

 

There was a mildly displeased sigh from Patryck, glancing at his partner briefly then to Tord, who attempted to shrink away from his gaze best he could. 

Seeing this, Pat softened his approach. "Paul, we can't just go and adopt every orphan we find-- and even if we weren't just surviving by the skin of our teeth without a kid, you  _ just _ said you didn't want children." 

 

"I know, I know! but look at him, Pat, he's starving... He was cold and nobody else was there! He could of died!"

 

Paul paused, looking to Tord then back at pat.

"Look, the world is fucked, okay? We don't have much... But all I know is that anybody else would of killed the boy for his bones and- well you get the idea..."

 

Pat sighed once more, knowing the other was right. "Yeah... Look, he can stay with us, but you need to be able to provide for him too. If stuff goes down, he needs to know what to do."

 

Paul nodded. He'd smile, but the man was so concerned for the very light child in his arms; instead he just nodded his head.

 

"I'll teach him everything we know," He stated firmly.

 

Patryck, becoming less aloof with this situation, looked at Tord and smiled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you; it's just been hard...for all of us here." 

 

He extend his hand toward the boy.

"You already know me, but I think we got off on the wrong foot; I'm Patryck."

 

Tord hesitated, unsure if he should let go of Paul or not. Eventually, after a little prompting from said man, he made his way out of his arms and grabbed ahold of Patryck's hand, Persuading the other to give him a kind smile. "It'll be alright, Tord. You'll be safe with us, I  _ promise _ ."

 

Paul grew a soft grin, taking a moment to look at Tord.

 

"Are you cold?” The male asked. “I think we have a blanket." He began to rummage through his bags that were filled with cans of soup-- yet he had no can opener.

 

The dutchman eventually found a small, thin blanket. Not great, but it was something.

Paul’s hazel brown eyes were set on Tord, studying the boy.

The boy had a torn red hoodie, Grey shorts and messy, wild light brown hair.

He could feel his hands tremble. The child was abandoned.

 

_ Just like him. _

 

Tord nodded and took the blanket from Paul, noticing the slight shake of his hands as he did so. 

 

"...Are you alright?" Tord decided to ask, noticing a slightly concerned glance from Patryck as well. 

 

Paul nodded and gave Tord a soft smile. Trying to distract the others from his incoming thoughts that nicotine usually calmed.

 

"It's alright, I’m just glad we found you, I was afraid of a blizzard coming through..."

 

He explained before look back at Patryck.

 

"We need to head to shelter before it gets dark, The winds are picking up." 

 

Tord was briefly reassured by Paul's demeanor, but his eyes soon became wide with concern at the mention of a blizzard.

 

Patryck took a quick glance around, knowing the other was right. "Yeah, looks like it's going to be a big one, too, damn."

 

The grip on Patryck's hand tightened. 

 

"Oh, don't worry, Tord-- we've survived these before we can survive another, as long as we get home." 

 

Pat glanced at his partner. "Lead the way, I got Tord." 

 

Paul nodded, watching the male for a quick second before starting to head back. His boots weren't thick enough to seal out the cold, but he marched on anyway, despite the snow getting inside. But at least the fuzzy socks he wore (that were extremely manly) kept his feet warm, so he just had to deal with the fucking liquid inside.

 

It was an hour of going through the snow when they reached the bomb shelter, Paul pulling the door open before getting inside.

 

He let out a thankful sigh, noticing everything was perfectly okay. The barren walls still secured by the thick layers of steel and titanium.

 

Patryck shared Paul's relief. "Good, no raiders."  Looking back at Tord, (who seemed utterly exhausted)

Pat noticed how thin he was-- deathly so. "First order of business, though; he needs food. Immediately." 

 

Paul nodded in agreement, Tossing his heavy bag onto the floor before pulling out a knife, he held the can down with his other hand as if it'd squirm for its life. 

 

He slammed his knife in the can of beans before cutting it open quickly. He snatched a Bowl, filling it of what was in the can before finding a spoon and putting it in the bowl.

Yeah, it wasn't warm, but it was all they could do in such a short amount of time. Paul handed Tord the beans, giving him a smile

"Go ahead, it's all yours."

 

Tord looked to the bowl, then back up at Paul, giving him a large grin. "...Thank you. No one has ever been this nice to me in a long time and--" 

Patryck interrupted what he could already sense was going to be a really long thanks. "You can show your gratitude later, For now just eat."

Tord didn't need to be told twice, proceeding to attempt to inhale all his food at once-- which resulted in a small coughing fit-- earning him a humorous scolding from Patryck.

 

Paul smiled at that, glad. He got up to look through their freezer; Now they needed to eat. The beans were just something they usually had for travelling despite how heavy they could be. 

He thought for a moment before looking at the vodka. Usually Patryck and him would enjoy some before going to bed due to there being a plentiful amount of freshwater, if they ever got dehydrated. 

Pat shook his head. There was a kid now.

 

"Hey Patryck, I'm gonna go get some snow "

He grabbed a bucket before going outside, stepping into the thick snow to scoop it up with the bucket. Making sure it was filled, packing it before heading back in, placing it on the counter ignoring the clunk from the metal meeting the counter.

"Be sure to boil it before you drink it," Patryck reminded. "We don't need anyone getting sick  _ again _ ." 

 

Hearing this, Tord looked up from his almost now empty bowl of beans. "Again?" He inquired curiously.

Patryck laughed. "We were in a bit of a pinch one day and ended up gathering some snow that had a flu bug or something in it, and it got me sick. Snow generated from a nuclear winter usually isn't the safest-- we learned that the hard way." 

 

"Yeah, it sucked" Paul laughed softly, ruffling Patryck’s bangs before getting the pot and turning on the flame with a soft smile.

"But at the time we had food, So we didn't need to go out... Speaking of food, Once the blizzard is over I can take tord hunting. I saw a few Elk tracks" Paul informed with a smile.

 

Hearing the mention of his name, Tord perked up.

 

"Ah, good opportunity for him to learn some things! Be sure to take good note, chances are they'll be gone after the storm." 

Patryck took the bowl from Tord seeing he was finished with the beans, nothing remaining in the dish.

"Still hungry?" 

 

Tord shook his head slowly, feeling his eyes droop. Seeing this, Pat smiled. "Go ahead and rest, you're going to have a busy day." 

 

The reaction was immediate, Tord seeming to pass out on the spot where he had laid.

 

Paul didn't want the male to have a sore neck in the morning,  So he took off his jacket again to placed it under his head. Giving him a small makeshift pillow.

 

He then went over to Patryck, placing a hand on his cheek. It was rare when the scruffy male wasn't angry or rude, but he just gave the polish male a smile.

 

"Thank you, Pat. I know this is going to be hard, but... Thank you"

With that he pulled him into a tight hug, holding the male close to him despite Patryck being much taller, but thinner.

 

Pat sighed, noting the light aroma of pine needles and smoke the other seemed to smell of.

"...It's not as bad as I thought it would be, honestly." 

Pat pulled away, turning to look at Tord, who now seemed entirely different from the shy and skittish boy they had known just a few minutes ago. He actually seemed relaxed for once. 

 

"I just hope he'll be okay. He seems so malnourished-- the last time he ate must have been so long ago..." The thought honestly made Pat sick to his stomach. 

 

Paul nodded sadly before leaning against the other; they usually cuddled up for warmth.

"I know what that's like..." He managed to whisper before yawning softly. The male was exhausted, and the others scent of vanilla and sweet rice did not help. 

 

"Patryck, I had a strange dream the other night." Paul shifted to get comfortable. "Where the world wasn't as messed up... a large glass dome and everything... Cities of people and animals..."

 

Pat yawned, how tired he really was catching up with him. 

"In a perfect world, Paul. Maybe one day there will be somewhere like that."

Patryck leaned against Paul, wrapping his arms around him.

"Who knows," he continued, grogginess carrying in his voice. "Just focus on getting some sleep for now..." 

 

Paul gave a soft nod before closing his eyes completely, letting his body relax as he drifted off into the warmth grasp of sleep. Where there were no worries, no fear. Even if it was just for a moment.


	2. Tiny hands and pounds of snow don't mix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Warning, slight gore. But educational.)
> 
> Hunting with your adopted father is fun,
> 
> But walking miles back home sucks.
> 
> Also deer guts smell.

  
  
  
  


The morning came, the sun rising and Paul as well; the man was accustomed to an early awakening. He stood up, changing his boots to much quieter ones before grabbing a scarf for Tord. Yeah, it was huge, but it'd help. The winds were picking up, meaning that the fragile boy was more at risk for hypothermia.

 

He grabbed his sniper rifle, unlike the usual ak-47. He planned to go for long distance since he was going to have tord with him. Also he didn’t want Patryck up his ass about ruining the meat and fur.

 

With the water now ready, he placed the bucket by tord. He began to slowly shake the boy awake, watching the males small head jostle before snapping awake.

 

"C'mon, drink..."

 

Tord grumbled, responding with unintelligible vowel sounds to being woken up. Eventually, after a bit more prompting, Tord flipped Paul's coat off of him. His hair stuck up in all directions, bed-head rampant. A small sound of suppressed laughter came from Pat, who had just woken up to see hair that looked like a 6th-grade art project. 

While taking a shallow sip of water, Tord cast a suspicious glance in Patryck's direction. "...What?" 

 

With a sharp inhale, he finally ceased his laughing. "Nothing, just feeling a little laugh today." 

Tord was still skeptical, but continued drinking his water rather than push further.

Paul just messed with his hair, flattening the back but the front wouldn't go down.

 

“You look like you have horns... That's cool!" Paul praised; noticing the males light brown hair that stuck up in every direction like an angry pufferfish. An impressed grin on his face, his chapped lips giving away his feelings towards the crazy hairstyle.

 

The 37 year old man began to mess with his own hair, trying to do the same, but his hair was flat, like always. He sighed in defeat then shrugged it off before getting up to make sure his sniper was loaded. 

 

"you awake yet buddy?"

 

Tord grumbled, still attempting to fix his hair, but finally giving up after about his 16th try.

"Great, guess I'm Satan now." 

 

"Don't worry about it" Paul replied simply, shrugging.

 

He turned to Paul, suppressing his exhaustion with enthusiasm. "As ready as I'll ever be!"

  
  


Paul praised before looking through his pocket, Then he pulled out a small strip of jerky he'd found in one of the cities, saving it but he knew Tord would need something.

He tore off the plastic casing before handing it to him with a smile.

 

"C'mon, let’s go" and with that he began to head out, walking with the smaller male

 

The heavy layers of snow that had built up from the storm made travel difficult, but no one seemed to mind too much, more focused on their destination. Tord was nibbling on the small slice of jerky sparingly, treating the meat is if were a precious resource rather than a slab of dried beef. After the food was gone, the silence was, while not terrible, a little awkward.

"...How'd you and Patryck meet?" Tord decided to ask. 

 

Paul thought for a moment, concentrating on the snow. He looked up at the sky, then at Tord.

 

"I.. was young, around sixteen. We were in the same army, bunkmates. At first patryck was strict to the book but I wasn't, not at all. Yet I pulled in and graduated with him... then  _ The War  _ happened" he took a deep breath before sighing, continuing his story.

 

"We've stayed together since, I love him, very much and He's all I've ever had"

 

Tord spoke up, His voice dismal and quiet.

"...The war caused so much destruction, and what for? All of us are struggling to live, day by day, all because some people couldn't agree..."

Tord chuckled, but it held no humor. "How unfair is that? Whatever you two were fighting for-- what anyone was-- in the end, didn't matter." He sighed sadly.

 

Paul nodded in agreement. "It's so stupid honestly...  _ At the time _ , I wasn't even a huge commie! i just needed a place to stay and get food... Then when the sirens went off... that's when I knew, All fuckin' hell was loose"

He paused, realizing he'd just cussed but just shrugged it off. it was only once so whatever.

 

Tord coughed suddenly, laughter being heard through his sharp exhales. "Wait, you're a communist?"

Humor was laced in his tone. 

 

"Aren't those like... The Russians or something--?"

 

"I’m actually Dutch, and Patryck is Polish. Right now, They're all over Norway and taking over the world.. We were as well but once again, we needed the money" he explained before stopping, finding the tracks.

 

"Okay Shh, these are tracks, see the deeper ones? That means it's heavier, most likely a buck or a pregnant female. That's one we're after"

 

Tord trailed closely behind Paul, following the tracks that seemed to get more fresh the further they went along. Eventually, after about 10 minutes, they both came to spot a decently sized heard in the distance; a large upstanding buck at the front, leading the group. "Is that the one we were tracking?" Tord asked.  

 

"Most likely... but we shouldn't hit that buck, He leads the group. let's just aim for the second biggest"

He informed as he set up his sniper off the ridge, searching for one before aiming carefully.

His scope was at first shaky due to shifting the handle to get a better view.

Once it stabilized he searched for the deer he was after.

He took a deep breath, waiting for the deer to freeze before he pulled the trigger.

 

Before the loud and resounding bang of the rifle bellowed, Tord quickly placed his hands over his ears, still flinching slightly at the pull of the trigger. In response to the shot, the now tumultuous herd scattered, kicking up large tufts of snow as they dispersed. After the powder cleared, there was a single buck remaining, laying in the pristine white snow, bleeding out. 

 

Paul got up instantly "Sorry kid, I'll get you some earmuffs when we find some. Let's go I'll teach you how to gut"

 

Then he took the boys hand, leading him down the small hill towards the elk. Watching as its head swung and shifted, trying to get back up.

 

The Elk grew more frantic as they approached, only worsening its condition. A small pool of guilt was building in Tord's stomach, but he opted to push it away in favor of looking at Paul for directions. "Wow, this is, uh, sad-- what we do now?"

 

"Well let's end it's suffering first" with that Paul pulled out his black army knife, aiming it before roughly slamming it into its head. Killing it before getting back up, watching the blood splatter and begin to pool.

 

"I know it's hard to see the first time, especially if you love animals. But if you want to live, you have to..."

 

Paul began to cut open the male’s belly with a single but rugged stroke. Watching as the flesh tore easily, but not quickly.

 

"Okay so we gotta gut this, but we can take some organs such as the liver. Gross and bland but rich in calories. The heart is a delicacy though"

Paul put the knife between his teeth as he shoved his bare hands into it’s stomach. Opening it up before grabbing the intestines and pulling them out like a rope, eventually cutting them out.

 

“The flank is very thin and It doesn’t have much meat, Now once you break the ribs off…”

 

And he did so, grabbing the rib cage and ripping it off the Spinal cord and shoulder blade before tossing it aside. His hands were red from the blood and the amount of force it took, but he continued.

 

“Now the heart is under the Lungs that are more closer to the neck than to it’s actual chest.”

 

The man explained with a soft smile, ripping out the diaphragm. Then sticking his hand inside, Feeling for the soft, tender muscle. When he gripped it, he slowly felt for the artery before snapping it out, Placing it by Tord. Watching as the life left it; as well as the blood.

 

“We will have to cut out the artery membranes that are too tough to chew, Then we can pickle it. Fry it… Or chop it up into a stew!”

 

Tord stuck out his tongue, Gross.

Paul laughed softly at that.

“Oh Tord, It tastes like beef! And chewy like chicken gizzard”

That did not help.

 

Tord viciously gagged, having to look away from the gory scene lest he wanted to lose his dinner. The metallic smell of blood had him wrinkling his nose in disgust. 

 

"I really hope I get used to this, but at the same time, I don't..." Tord paused, looking around. "How are we going to get this thing back anyway? Isn't there bears and raiders in this area...?" 

 

Paul nodded, bagging the organs before ripping and cutting out pieces of lean and tough meat before going to tord. There isn’t a lot you could actually eat on an Elk.

 

"You don’t get used to it, You just focus less on it. Anyway yeah there are, that’s why we gotta bury this. Bears will dig it up later, Raiders wont risk getting frostbite" and with that he began to pick up snow, covering up the dead equine.

 

Tord aided Paul, shoveling snow onto the body while still attempting to look away best he could. After it was sufficiently covered,It took awhile due to covering up most of the blood, then packing down the snow.

Paul couldn’t feel a thing in his hands, so he shoved them into his pockets.

Tord really couldn't feel his hands anymore as well but didn't mind all that much. "How many times have you done this before, Paul, anyway?"

 

"Oh... well" He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.

"A lot, It's easier to find animals than other foods..."

He shrugged before starting to head back. Paul missed a lot of vegetarian foods; Pickles, beets, carrots, potatoes and especially onions.

 

"Okay listen up, The big part of the leg is tough meat, The underside is tender meat. We can't eat too much of the elk due to radiation poisoning, and the fact there’s barely any edible meat. We always have to make sure we carry just enough. This is around 15 pounds of meat. It will last for awhile but even then we need to go and find other food just incase"

 

Tord quickly followed behind Paul "Ah yes, lovely, lovely radiation..." 

 

A large portion of the walk was in silence, less awkward this time around. The snow was starting to soak into Tord's socks, his shoes mostly being full of water at this point; He was pretty sure Paul felt the same way. Hopefully, neither of them got trench-foot-- that'd suck.  _ Everything seemed to suck in the apocalypse.   _

 

Paul wanted to say something, offer to carry him and the such but he knew that tord had to toughen up. So he took deep breaths, marching forward.

"Man this shit's fuckin heavy.." He cursed under his breath.

 

Eventually they reached the vault, Paul happy and also an irrational dick, did the unthinkable.

He kicked open the door with a shout; "WHO’S YOUR DADDY?"


	3. Paul, Pauwned, Paused, Paussibly, Paunce, Pau means dick in Portuguese-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can't we just feel like this forever?"

"HOLY FUCKIN-- PAUL WHAT THE HELL!?" Patryck looked as if he were on the verge of a heart attack, causing Tord to start laughing hysterically, gripping his stomach.

"You two are going to be the death of me I swear--" Pat regained his composure, glancing at Paul and the bag over his shoulder.

"I'm Assuming it went well?"

Paul nodded and grinned, throwing the rucksack onto the counter.

"I got a heart, liver, some nice tenderloins, some bits of fat for the broth and then two legs... Aaaaand--" He quickly surprised Patryck with a hug, tickling his sides.

Paul could feel his heart light up with joy when he heard Patryck’s bubbly laughter that he grew to adore.

 

"--An ambush for you!!" He shouted amongst the other’s high pitched giggles.

Paul laughed happily as well. It was rare when times were good, so Paul always took advantage of it.

 

Patryck laughed boisterously, happy knowing that his partner was safe and managed to get some food for them. After the terrible tickle attack had ceased, Pat turned his attention to Tord, noticing his amusement in seeing the couple interacting. "And how did it go for you?"

Tord sighed in response. "It was horrific, but I learned a lot, so... Well, I suppose."

Patryck look backed to Paul. "Was there any trouble?"

 

Paul shook his head and smiled. "Just the usual, gross guts n' stuff..." He looked to Tord. "He'll be alright, though. My only concern is, well..."

There was a pause for a moment. "That we don't even have any good gloves. I personally like using my hands but damn it's cold." Paul faked a shiver before looking back at Patryck. Paul really liked the cold but he was the only one that did.

 

Patryck hummed in thought, putting a hand under his chin. "Well, we could go look for some or perhaps make a pair, but I don't know how we'd do that... I wish this damned winter would just disappear-- have it actually be warm for once. Wonder if it's like this all over the world...?" Pat shook his head, dismissing the thought. "Never mind-- you two go get warmed up, I'll start preparing the meat."

 

Paul nodded "I'll find a pair or two eventually, but from what I've seen, I highly doubt the fact the rest of the world is fine. Russia wasn't the only one that sent nukes..." He sighed, shaking his head in disbelief.

 

Pat sighed. "Dang. Was a little too hopeful thinking somewhere was salvageable, I suppose..."

 

"It was a free-for-all," Paul muttered under his breath before walking over to Tord.

 

"You're in luck lil buddy, Patryck is actually the only one who knows how to cook well."

 

In response to Paul's last statement, Tord chuckled, "Remind me to never let you cook for me, then"

 

"Oh trust me," Patryck responded. "First time it happens, you'll never forget."

 

Paul rolled his eyes, He couldn't understand why nobody liked his meals.

"No fair, man, burnt toast is like, the best. I enjoy char on my food!" He muttered, crossing his arms before sticking out his tongue.

“And also vodka, vinegar, garlic, salt, and lots of onions. Cayenne pepper…” His mouth began to water.

 

This guy ate weird.

 

"Yeah, that's how _you_ like it," Pat retorted. "But I think everyone else prefers food with taste. If you cooked for us for about two weeks, we'd probably die of heart disease."

Tord snickered from Pat’s response, covering his mouth with a wide grin.

 

Paul snapped out of it, quickly responding to the other previous statement. Having to put his ego aside for a moment.

"But I mean... maybe Brazil could be, seeing their tropical environment... Local wildlife would thrive well..."

 

Patryck thought of Paul's answer for a moment. "Perhaps, but it's also a relatively big country and most likely a large target..."

 

"Well, the biome itself is nice, but the natives... Not so much." Paul sighed softly "Possibly the desert? Or maybe we'd be safe here." He shrugged, then looked at tord, smiling at him.

"If you could go to any country, where would you? I'd go to Japan, honestly, I love the weather there. But Hawaii is also nice! Also i'm pretty sure brazil doesn't have any nuclear weapons anymore"

 

Tord thought for a moment. "Truthfully, before all this happened, I would have gone to Japan as well. Uh, I really like anime..." Tord seemed to shrink a little further into his sweater at his last statement.

"But now... Wherever is livable and not freezing every day... Or where we don't have to deal with raiders and actually be able to live without fear... That's asking a bit much, though, isn't it? Nowhere will be like that, not while I'm alive, at least."

 

"Hey, chin up." Paul male placed a hand on Tord's cheek, giving him a great big smile. "Shit is hard, but it'll get easier. If we work vigorously, one day this place will be worth living in. Where we won't fear raiders. Trust me tord, everything will get better, we just gotta get through this."

With that he stood up, facing Patryck with a confident grin. "And I know it, I'll make sure of that."

 

Pat and Tord smiled at Paul's reassuring words, feeling a little better, if not just for a moment. "You're right," Pat responded. "And we'll be with you for every step of the way, right Tord?" Hearing his name, the young boy looked to Pat and then Paul with a grin.

"Of course! I'll stay with you guys for as long as I can!"

 

Paul nodded, pressing his forehead against the males head, pulling him into a gentle hug. "I'll train you, raise you. Don’t worry. Living here will become easier and much more comfortable. Now let’s get settled in and warm up. My feet are colder than the snow at this point," Paul laughed softly.

 

Patryck laughed heartily in response. Seeing Tord already begin to take off his shoes with, frankly, a large amount of effort, only continued to amuse Pat.

 

"Well, you're never going to get them off like that-- don't be in such a rush." Pat squatted down to Tord's height and slowly undid the laces, making it much easier to remove the boots from his feet than just pulling them off.

"There, that's much better." Patryck stood up and placed the shoes off to the side to dry.

 

Paul shrugged. “Honestly, I don't lace them,” He admitted, pulling up his pant legs to show the laces were wrapped around and tied.

Patryck chuckled. "I'm just slowly growing more convinced he doesn't know how to tie his shoes,"  he whispered to Tord, but loud enough so Paul could hear.

“Shh, look at my socks, man!” He added with a soft grin before slipping off his boots to reveal his fluffy socks that had cats on them.

 

Much manly, Paul.

 

Tord suppressed his laughter, also taking note of Paul's socks. "...Why cats, you manly man?"

“Because cats are sweet and they’re warm too!”

Patryck snickered, raising an eyebrow.

“You can’t tie your boots, can you?”

 

Paul just made a pouty face in response, crossing his arms. “I can tie my shoes!” He began to unwrap his laces. “You just kinda, uhh… Coil one over the other and…” He trailed off.

 

“Not even my lucky cat socks can help me now," Paul whispered quietly to himself.

 

"Oh my god you don't!" Patryck exclaimed, Tord sharing his surprise. "How did I not know this-- no wait, how do you not know?"

 

"SHHH-- I can do this I just gotta…” The male began to lace them up, sloppily but surely. The strings weren’t even in the right holes. It looked like a toddler gave up and just made a very shitty braid.

“It’s been awhile…” He admitted quietly.

 

"Didn't your parents ever teach you how to tie your shoes?" Pat questioned.

Paul paused for a moment, his eyes showing slight panic before shaking it off.

 

_Who needs parents._

 

“Agh, no I did everything myself...” Paul whispered softly, before giving up and wrapping the laces around his boots once more.

 

Now that sparked Tord's interest. "What do you mean?" He inquired.

 

Paul was about ready to stop the conversation, he really didn't want to think about his past. The ridiculing, the In-equality, the poverty.

He just looked down, taking a moment.

“I never really… Had parents, I lived in an orphanage all my life as a child...” He explained quietly.

 

Pat, sensing Paul's discomfort, was just about ready to shut down any further questions. But, contrary to what he thought Tord would ask, he said something quite the opposite.

"Hmm... I'll have to teach you to tie your shoes, then! But you have to do one thing in return."

 

“Anything lil man, but I’m not letting you have any of my vodka.” Paul chuckled softly. He went to grab a smoke from his cigarette pack in his coat pocket, but stopped. Right, kid.

Damn. 

 

Tord hesitated, seemings embarrassed for a moment. "...Will you two be parents...? S' just, mine are gone, and, I don't want to be alone again..."

 

Paul grinned, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close.

"Tord! you _already are!_ " He cheered with a grin, ruffling his hair.

He looked back at patryck. "We may not be related, but we're still family."

 

Tord was on the verge of tears with joy-- ecstatically pulling Paul further into the hug.

Pat slowly walked over to the both of them, joining the group hug with just as much zest as the other two. Burying his face into Paul's shoulder, Pat mumbled, "I love both you guys."

 

Paul stuck out his tongue.

"You gotta choose one, Pat," he joked, before kissing his cheek, smiling and nuzzling Tord. "Nah, it's all good, I love both of you as well..."

 

Pat chuckled; it was warm and comforting. "I don't think I could deal with that, truthfully."

After a moment of silence, Tord sniffed, tears finally coming from his eyes and dripping onto Paul's sweater. "I-I'm really happy you both found me-- I don't know what I'd do without you guys... Thank you, so much..."

 

Paul was about so say the usual straight forward shit; you'd be dead. Yet he just gave him a smile, lifting his chin.

"Shh, it's ok, Tord. Don’t fret, you're with us now!" Paul's words were soft and sincere.

 

Tord grinned, first at Paul then turning to Pat. He wiped his tears away with his sweater sleeve, not caring if they got damp.

Pat sighed in contentment, finally pulling away from the hug. For once, everything seemed ok, at least for the time being.

 

Paul let himself relax. "Alright, I'll have to make sure the levels around this area are safe... You guys stay in here. I'm gonna head out and time some Rad tests."


	4. Hello, New friend.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The name's Tom,  
> Just Tom.
> 
>    
> \--------------
> 
> (SPOILERS)  
> PSA:
> 
> Don't think this unrealistic. Paul cannot feel for tissue, mucsel , organ damage through the outside of his body.  
> He is covered in bruises, torn ligaments, internal bleeding and MANY injuries.
> 
> Paul was just checking for broken bones and wounds.
> 
> The only reason Tom's body didn't go into shock is because he fainted when he hit the ground, Sending his body straight into Repairment.
> 
> Due to tom being unable to feel the IMMENSE pain,  
> he is still stiff, uncoordinated and wobbly.
> 
> His eyes are odd due to his parents being INCESTUAL,  
> they both had the genetic mutation and passed it down , even stronger to him. Due to radiation and nuclear power his mutation expanded and grew, meaning all of his eyes are covered by the pupil.
> 
> since he does not have an iris he cannot control the lights,  
> meaning everything is REALLY BRIGHT
> 
> so at night, He is the gods  
> thankfully, They don't exactly have bright days.
> 
> \---------------------

 

"Be safe!" Patryck called out as Paul left.

He looked down at Tord who still had a large grin on his face. "Guess it's just you and me for a bit. Right, come and help me preserve the meat, will you?"

Tord nodded, following closely behind Pat as he explained how to maintain certain foods. How enthralling

 

"Okay, so first you're going to salt it, as bacteria cannot survive in super salty environments-- which is why Paul never gets sick," Pat explained, chuckling at his friendly jab. "Make sure it's well spread out but thin enough so it still tastes good."

Tord did as he was told, slowly sprinkling the preservative on the meat, using Pat's pre-made slab as an amount reference.

"Good job!" Patryck praised. "And finally we place them in an insulator, which will dry it out much more quickly and safely then just leaving them out in the sun." Patryck picked up the tray of neatly organized slices of meat and placed them into something that, almost looked like a bread oven.

 

Paul pulled out the small device, checking the radiation levels within 50 feet in the snow from their base.

It was not too bad, however towards the direction of moon there was an increase.

This wasn’t any slight increase, It was strong by 300 rem. (3 Gy)

 _When there were power plants, there were cities_.

Paul had a sudden revelation. His body stiffened, double checking the radar before he was finally convinced that what he was seeing was real.

The generator was still going then.

Meaning there had to be people alive still!

 

With this realization, Paul ran to patryck, his brown eyes wide with excitement.

 

“ToRD you’RE MAGICAL! I checked the rad’s there's a nuclear power plant in the area, meaning there ARE other people alive--! In an operating city nontheless!”

 

The two seemed taken aback by what Paul said just as much as he was for a moment, before actually comprehending what that meant. "M-More survivors...?" Patryck mumbled. The idea seemed mostly preposterous. But, if the plant were still running, someone would have to be operating it-- a few dozen others, at least.

"Do we head there...? It could be dangerous."

 

"I'll go, I have a bigger body mass, so hopefully the radiation levels won't affect me as easily. However, when I get back i'll have to take it easy to avoid getting sick. I'll need some gloves, a mask, and possibly an empty backpack to carry stuff back. "

He paused for a moment.

"But I need to hurry-- the environment is unstable and I don't think they're aware of the combustion levels rising."

 

The worry in Pat's expression was painfully obvious. "I... Are you sure this is a good idea? So many things could go wrong..."

Tord tried not to show it, but he was concerned as well.

 

“The levels aren’t that high, I’m just worried if we take too long that when we do have the chance it’ll be too dangerous.”

Paul began to look around, emptying out his bag for unnecessary items. “I’m more concerned about the people there; the radiation shouldn't affect me as terribly as it would them, considering how long they've most likely been there.”

He put a bit of the lighter foods inside the bag and a small refilled bottle of water.

“I should be back around… late tonight-- about five hours.”

 

Patryck sighed, knowing there was little he could do to stop the other.

"Just, please be careful. As strong as you may be, it's still radiation. Just get in and out-- don't stall for time."

Tord looked up at Paul, noticing his determined expression.

At that moment, he reminded him of his father.

Suddenly, Tord wrapped his arms around Paul, holding him tight once more. He spoke; words muffled by his army uniform but still understandable: "Please come back."

 

Paul smiled, ruffling Tord's hair with a sloppy grin.

“Of course I will! _I’ll always come back_. Even if patryck tries to poison me someday," The male joked before kissing Tord’s forehead, then pulling Patryck into a tight hug.

After a moment, the male left, marching through the snow.

 

Tord looked up at Patryck, not completely reassured. "Will he be alright...?"

Pat responded with a confident grin, contrary to his actual thoughts. "Of course, Paul is tough! If someone tries to hurt him he'll beat them up." Patryck grabbed ahold of Tord's hand, leading him away from the door.

"Everything will be alright," he continued, speaking more to himself than Tord. Either way, his words seemed to comfort the Norwegian.

 

It wasn’t until he was a couple miles away from the plant, that he realized it, was in fact; HUGE.

Paul raised an eyebrow, seeing plasma grow around the exhaust stack before the thing burst into flames. The ground shook and Paul fell on his arms, covering his head from the shards of metal and concrete that had rained from the sky, landing by him or stabbing and sticking into the thick packed snow.

He couldn’t hear anything but the ringing in his ears, yet amongst that, he caught a scream.

A child’s scream.

 

He ran, fast as he could towards the plant despite the lava-like melted metal pouring from it.

In the confusion of it all, he saw a small boy a few yards away from the reactor. He’d been blow out and had a broken arm.

Paul could tell due to the blood and grossly misshapen wrist. The bone hadn't gone through the skin but it was still trying to poke out, making his hand grow limp and weak.

His whole arm was torn up, the shirt he had was now ripped to shreds. His entire white sleeve was ripped off, most likely due to holding onto something that caused the bone to break.

Despite the child being knocked out, he grabbed him.Paul picking the boy up before heading back as he held his arm tightly, stopping the bleeding through his digits.

He could feel the warm blood seeping through his fingers, growing sticky but drying up rather quickly. He was struggling to stop the rest of the bleeding from the wounds all over the boys unprotected arm, and the cold bitter winds were doing its job of drying it up.

 

 

"Patryck, you said it yourself, he'll be fine-- don't worry so much. He's only been gone for a little over an hour."

In the short time-span where Paul had been away, roles had really switched between Pat and Tord. It was now the older who was extremely anxious about the situation, biting his nails down to stubs to distract him from anything else than the thought of Paul's irradiated corpse. At first, he was able to deal with things well, being able to distract himself with random tasks, but, well, that stopped working after he heard the explosion of the presumed reactor. Where Paul was. At the moment, his nerves were shot.

 

It was only a half hour of Paul running, the male having a very high endurance. He slowly opened the door, panting heavily as he held the boy in his arms.

“F-fuckin' christ dude," He muttered to himself before placing the boy down, around the age of 8.

He had pale but slightly toned skin and light, dusky almond hair that was fluffed up, like he’d been shocked. He wore a White button up shirt that was stained with blood and a black tie. He also had white pants as well, complete with ebony dress shoes.

 

The arm wasn’t bleeding anymore, but damn, he lost a lot of blood. His own uniform was covered with gore that was still somewhat wet and dripping.

 

Patryck, as soon as he heard Paul's voice, immediately shot up from his seat-- surprising Tord who was sitting next to him. Pat was about to run over and check if his partner was ok, but stopped as soon as he noticed the child. "--Paul-- who the _fuck_ is that!?"

That was the first time Tord had heard Patryck swear so graphically, and it _honestly surprised him_.

 

“I don’t know, but he flew like a few hundred feet-- He should be dead!” Paul cried out, setting the boy down to grab bandages, wrapping up his arm, feeling his body for any other broken bones. “He was inside the plant when it exploded!” Paul panicked until he heard the male breathing faintly. Okay, there was still hope.

 

Pat let out a sigh of relief when he heard the stranger's shallow breaths.

Tord had a horrified look on his face, only become more aghast when he noticed the child's horribly disfigured wrist. Pat flinched and quickly covered the other's eyes. "I need to take him to the back room-- Tord doesn't need to see this."

 

Paul nodded in agreement. "That sounds good, stay with him. Let him know he'll be alright." He continued to feel around the boy's body for any damage.

His legs and chest were fine, but when he landed on his arm it caused some major fractures and a broken bone.

The boy's body was scattered with deep blue and black bruises, burns and singed cloth that had melted from the flames. The boys hair was slightly burnt, but that was easily rubbed off.

Now the bleeding. He quickly got up, swiftly finding a piece of sheet metal to use as a splint before wrapping up his arm again.

When Paul finished he began to wipe off the boy, cleaning his body of any dirt and grime. He noticed that the male was missing a tooth on the side of his mouth. Paul just made sure it was no longer bleeding before sighing softly.

Now the waiting game.

 

Tord seemed, at the least, traumatized-- reliving the brief horrifying moment in his mind on loop.

The only thing that was really keeping him from a mental break down was the steady and calming motion of Pat's hand on his back.

"Hey, it'll be ok, he'll be ok-- everything is fine." His words didn't seem to help much.

 

After a while, Tom, the boy dressed in Mormon clothes, seemed to actually be alright.

Except for his arm. Paul made sure to clean it up and cover it before wrapping the boy up in his jacket.

He was covered in dark bruises all over his body, Including a slightly fractured nose. He had a small gash on his forehead from the metal and a few second degree burns on his bare arm.

Paul went to the two, opening the door.

"He's alright, just a broken arm. A few burns and bruises too."

 

Paul gave Tord a smile, calming walking over to him before talking in a soothing tone. "Who's my brave lil’ soldier?" He spoke gently.

 

Tord grinned, hugging Paul.

Patryck walked over to the two and put his hand on his partner's shoulder, giving him a relieved gaze. "You had us both worried to bits-- well, more me," Patryck rephrased, noticing the skeptical look Tord gave him.

"Then suddenly you just burst through the door with an injured kid; you almost gave me a heart attack! I thought the blood was yours!"

 

Paul laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head in response.

"Well he was losing a lot of blood, so..." He wandered around for a moment before sighing quietly.

 

“As long as he’s alright I suppose everything is ok,” Pat said with a sigh. “I’d clean off your shirt, though, it’s a mess-- and we don’t need blood being tracked around.”

 

Paul nodded in agreement. The male took off his red turtleneck that was covered in blood before looking for any spare clothes. He found Pat’s old military uniform. He put on the grey camouflage shirt, extremely tight on him due to his bigger build.

 

Pat couldn’t help but chuckle. “Age has not treated that thing well, has it?”

"Age didn't treat me well" Paul grumbled in response.

A sudden but faint groan in the distance interrupted his thoughts. “...I guess he’s awake, then-- that was fast.” He looked to Paul and then to Tord. “I’ll go check on him.”

 

Tom could feel his body ache, tired and unable to move. However, he couldn’t feel any pain. Not like he knew how that felt to begin with. Tom sat up, noticing he was bandaged up and in an unfamiliar room, causing him to panic. With his broken, mangled hand, he fixed the black tie around his neck, adjusting the clip.

His fingers were broken and bent awkwardly, but somehow he was able to tighten and adjust it, managing to use his disfigured fingers with little struggle.

 

Pat walked into the room, seeing the others mild panicked expression. “You really shouldn’t be moving yet, the fact you’re alive is honestly amazing to me, actually.” Pat walked closer, pulling up a nearby chair. “So, why exactly were you at a nuclear power-plant, anyway-- and what’s with the eyes?”

Tom stared at the male with long hair, his black optics shining in the dim light. He tilted his head curiously. The boy had lived in a power plant all his life, no reflections, no mirrors. The youth had never seen himself.

“What do you mean?” The child replied with sweet, blissful ignorance.

 

Patryck lifted an eyebrow quizzically. “Your eyes-- they’re black. Last I checked that isn’t normal. That, and, really, for a boy your size, those wounds should have in all actuality killed you.”

 

Tom looked back at his arm, tilting his head. “Why is it… what’s wrong with my arm?” He questioned, his eyes glossing up with fear. He couldn’t feel anything in his body, never really could. He didn’t understand what was going on, who were these people?

 

Pat sighed, realizing the boy was just as confused as he was. “Hey, Paul!” Patryck shouted over his shoulder. “Can you grab me a mirror?”

 

Paul herd the other, parting from Tord to get up, searching under the bed for the said object before returning to Patryck. He looked like he’d seen a ghost at the sight of Tom’s black eyes.

“WH-jsahksd-- ok.”

Paul paused for a moment before handing the mirror to Patryck, smiling awkwardly. “You think it’s a mutation from being at the plant...?”

 

“Could be…” Pat turned to Tom, who still seemed confused. “How long have you been in the plant, kid?”

 

Tom glanced at Paul’s thick eyebrows before looking back at patryck. “I-I dont know, all I can remember was living there…” He explained softly. His eyes slowly shifted to down to the stone ground. He recalled his guardians, the three mixed individuals who had raised him despite not being his birth parents.

He looked at the mirror in Patryck's hand that was held up for him. His eyebrows rose in surprise and shock, but he slowly calmed down. It took Tom a couple seconds until he began to piece it all together.

Now this surprised Pat. The radiation levels in the plant were immense, and the fact a kid was able to survive in it for so long-- how was that possible? Everything about this child was an anomaly. “Well… You’re here with us now, I suppose… What’s your name?”

 

“Tom…” the male responded softly, rubbing his shoulder, messing with the bandages and unknowingly bruising himself due to his grip.

“Just, Tom. It’s always been like that,” the male whispered softly. He spoke as if he’d gone to school or been well tutored. Maybe he was raised by professors or someone with an education; however that was rare, due to the intelligent people actually having the right mind to escape from the world’s most desolate area.

 

Pat hummed. “Well, hello Tom-- I’m Patryck, that’s Paul-- don’t mess with your bandages, you’ll make your injuries worse.” He paused, thinking of what he wanted to ask. “Was it just you in there, Tom?”

 

Tom took a moment, collecting his thoughts. “Well, I did have others taking care of me. However, one day, they went to look for food-- they never came back. I was searching around the plant’s generator for any food or water they might of left, but… The machine was shaking, and before I could realize what was going on… I just, all I can recollect is being blasted into the sky.

 

Paul nodded. “Yeah, I saw it. Tom here flew a few hundred feet, It’s a miracle he’s alive.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what I was just saying… You really are an odd one, Tom.” Pat shook his head in disbelief. “I wonder if the others are still out there. Would it be worth looking for them?” Patryck wasn’t really sure who the question was directed to.

 

Tom stared at the male, processing what he’d said before replying. “Food is scarce. If you are trying to find others you might want to look for cities, ones away from power plants. My family didn’t leave due to having to watch it. Making sure that every second, everything was up to code.”

Paul cleared his throat before facing Patryck.

“He’s got a point, I do have a feeling that there would be others in populated areas, possibly if they didn’t aim the nukes there”

 

Pat sighed. “I suppose that means we should pack up and move somewhere, then.” He looked around, almost nostalgically. “Man, and here I was really starting to like this place… I mean, as much as someone can like a bunker, I suppose.”

 

Tom paused, glancing around. The bunker itself was clean and proper, It seemed like a blessing to have.

“You don’t have to leave, this is a much more stable shelter than the buildings, It just means you’ll need to find modes of transportation… maybe dog sleds” Tom suggested. Paul shrugged, a bit unsure.

“I guess we could, but I’m sure we could find a car.”

 

“But where would we get gas as well-- uncommon nowadays…” Pat started rubbing at his temples, the stress of the past few hours finally getting to him. “You know what, we can talk about this later, it’s been a long day.”

Paul nodded in agreement. “Are you hungry?” He asked quietly, only have Tom shake his head. He didn’t feel hungry. Paul sighed and stood up, looking at Patryck. “We should introduce Tord.”

 

“Ah, yeah, that’d be a good idea. I’ll go grab him.” Patryck exited the room without another word, returning a few moments later with Tord, who seemed hesitant to look at Tom due to their first meeting. After a bit of prompting, he finally peeked through his fingers, only to suddenly cover them once more at the sight of Tom’s black eyes.

 

Tom felt a bit hurt at the sight of the boy flinching. He went to get up despite the damaged tissue in his legs, yet Paul grabbed him and sat him back down.

“Woah there buddy, you’re gonna hurt yourself!”

Tom tilted his and looked back at tord, confused and worried at the same time.

“Am I scary...?”

 

Tord was hesitant to answer. He took a moment to get his bearings before responding. “No, not scary, I was just… I wasn’t expecting that. Your eyes are strange.”

“Tord!” Patryck gently scolded. “Don’t be rude.”

Tom shrugged and nodded, giving him a soft grin. “Yeah, but so is your hair,” he responded with a slightly smug grin.

Paul was a mix of emotions, unsure what to say, but Tom cut off his thoughts.

“Anyway Tord, I’m tom. I’m a mormon, also known as a Latter-Day-Saint. Do you believe in any religions?”

 

“Hey, my hair is the coolest--” Tord defended, although his words really had no bite behind them.

“As for your question; no. Any faith I may have had died when the bombs dropped.” His tone was more solemn, sounding more resentful than anything else. “Where’d you come from, anyway? Didn’t know there was any other survivors around here.”

 

Tom took a moment, nodding. He could understand completely. Changes this drastic can alter a man’s faith, belief, and hope. Tom took a moment, trying to recall.

“I don’t exactly remember; I was born in London though. All I can remember is living at the Nuclear power plant,” the other explained. Paul took a moment, grabbing Patryck’s hand.

 

“Tord, can you give us a moment real quick?” The Dutch male asked softly, having a few questions for the strange boy.

 

While a bit confused, Tord obliged, walking out of the room without any further questions that he dearly wanted to ask the other child.  

 

Paul turned to his lover before back at Tom.

“Tom, I noticed that you haven’t been in any... Pain.”

Tom tilted his head, confused once again.

“What is pain...?”

 

Patryck’s slightly thick eyebrows shot up in surprise, glancing at Tom, then at Paul, and finally back at the confused Mormon.

“What do you…” Pat gave Paul a sideways glance, pulling him off to the side and harshly whispering to him.

“There is something _seriously wrong_ with this kid, Paul-- and it’s not just the eyes. He has not only managed to survive radiation levels and wounds that would have normally killed a full grown man, but has shaken them all off like they’re nothing. That and, adding on that he doesn’t seem to know what pain is-- something is messed up.”

 

Paul took a moment, recalling something he’d studied.

“It’s a genetic disorder,” he responded quietly, trying to remember the name.  **“C** ongenital Analgesia.”

He faced Tom, then Patryck.

“It means he cannot feel pain and never has, It’s a hereditary disease,” Paul explained with a soft smile, looking back at Tom. “That means we will have to make sure you have no injuries and clean them often, so no moving that arm of yours. You can lose it if it gets infected.”

Tom nodded. 

 "Congenital, that means it was present from birth and Analgesia is the inability to feel pain, It's rooted from a greek term known as; anagelsia"

 

Patryck thought for a moment, mentally going over Paul’s explanation. “Okay, but what about all the radiation that has to be in his body? He should be a walking tumor at this point. Paul nodded, he faced Tom again.

Tom just spoke up with a smile; “Nuclear radiation doesn’t work like that! Well, it can, but it’s transferred through DNA code and RNA. Due to me being born before the war, I am susceptible to radiation sickness, but I can’t exactly feel it.”

The Mormon reflected for a moment before continuing.

“I actually did have tumors and cancers on my skin, My parents cut them off before they could spread into my bloodstream. However, I cannot have children without risking them to have genetic disorders. I believe my eyes are black due to a form of mutation that is common in my blood line, but it wasn’t this bad. My hypothesis is that the high radiation levels disturbed my growth. Possibly due to the fact that my birth-parents weren’t exactly the holiest.”

 

Paul was confused, yet also stunned.

“Incestual...?" He muttered to himself. It made sense, though.

 

The same could be said for Patryck, as he perhaps just had the largest double-take in his life.

“I-- wow. I don’t think I have any words. Your parents must’ve been smart, kid.” Pat sighed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “Honestly, you are such an anomaly you almost don’t seem human.”

Paul nodded in agreement before shrugging.

“Maybe it’s possible that this will be a common thing now… Seeing how the world is changing so rapidly.”

Tom nodded and smiled at him, waiting for Paul to finish speaking before replying to Patryck.

“Actually, I didn’t have smart parents, I just really like to read! All my parents really had were their college books and a few records about Chernobyl and Hiroshima. I’m grateful to have the time to read, but I don’t have those books anymore…” Tom looked down sadly before peering back at them.

“Can I see Tord again?” The male asked quietly. He really wanted to see his friend once more. 

 

After processing all the information that had just been loaded on him, Patryck nodded. “Of course, give me a moment.” He once again stepped away from the group, leaving Paul and Tom in a more than awkward silence for a time.

Soon after he returned, Tord trailing closely behind him. “I already caught him up on everything he needs to know, so he’s just as informed as we are.”

 

Tord peeked from behind Pat, looking at Tom with awe in his eyes.


	5. Ah, yes, what can go wrong in the wasteland?

Tom smiled at the male, opening up his arms before pausing to fix his broken appendage into the proper posture. This was going to take awhile to get used to. “So Tord, where are you from? I like your accent, It’s very unique!” Tom complimented with a soft grin-- although he already knew, he just wanted confirmation if his hunch was correct.

Tord’s eyes lit up with the question. “Norway! Wish I was still there, truthfully. It was lovely before the war.” His voice was nostalgic, carrying a trail of sentimentality.

Tom nodded in agreement. It was cold there too.  
“I bet it was nice…”  
The male mumbled quietly.  
Paul had a hint of surprise in his voice. He was fed up and confused-- was he looking at a ghost?  
“Jesus Christ, kid, how are you fuckin’ alive?”

Tom shrugged. However, his eyebrow twitched at the male’s foul mouth.

Pat sighed. Suddenly, a resounding smack could be heard echoing through the room, and a surprised yelp from Paul. “Stop swearing in front of the children.”

Patryck had slapped Paul over the head.

Paul stuck out his tongue, rubbing where he'd been struck. He took a moment to look at Tom then Tord, confused. "Oh c'mon, Pat, are they not allowed to swear? For God's sake, does it really matter?"

Patryck scowled. “Yes-- I will not have two children running around, cursing like sailors. Not to mention--” Pat pointed at Tom. “--He’s religious, and you just ‘used the Lord's name in vain,’ as he’d most likely put it.”

Paul groaned and sighed, listening for once. "Sorry, Tom, I'll work on it."

The boy just nodded and looked up at Patryck curiously.  
"The weather is going to be calm today, it'd be a good idea to scout the area."

Pat nodded. “Yeah, I’ll have to head out this time. I’ll leave in a bit. Paul, you watch the children, and make sure Tom doesn’t over-exert himself.”

"Shouldn't Tord go with you? He could learn a bit more about the area," Paul suggested, the Dutch male trying his best to wipe away his thick accent as he spoke.

Pat sighed, still hesitant to put the young boy in any form of danger. He relented, though. “Yes, I suppose so. Tord, gather what you need-- not too much, though-- we shouldn’t be gone for long.”  
The Norwegians eyes lit up, quickly scrambling out of the room without another word to grab his supplies.  
Pat sharply exhaled once more. “You sure this is a good idea, Paul? The wasteland is no place for a child.”

Paul looked back at Patryck and gave him a firm nod. "Yes, he will learn from personal experience on how to deal with everything happening. Don't head out too far, just try to find any livestock that might have escaped from a farm or zoo..."

Tom glanced at Paul, then at patryck. He wanted to join them but just shrugged. "I say give him a weapon if you're worried about him."

Patryck’s expression stiffened. The thought of giving Tord a gun honestly terrified him to no end. Not the idea of him misusing it and hurting himself, but rather the thought of him having to actually use it-- on something else-- be it human or animal. “I don’t know... “ Pat kept his eyes glued to the floor. If Tord where to get hurt and not have a weapon, Patryck would feel personally responsible for what may have happened. He made up his mind. “No. I don’t want him having to shoot anything, not yet, at least.”

Tom shrugged "Knives exist."

That didn't make Pat feel much better.

Paul nodded, pulling his army knife from his satchel. "He can take mine, it's best he starts with something he can actually carry.” Paul eyed Patryck. He felt as if something was off. What was going through the others mind?

Pat took the knife from Paul’s hand, glancing back at himself in the shine of the blade. He could feel his stomach drop, but pushed the feeling away. The Pole reluctantly agreed. “Okay, this will work.” Giving Tord any form of weapon truthfully made Patyck uneasy, but he figured this would be the best solution. “I just hope he’ll never have to use it…”

"I honestly doubt he will other than stabbing at a few trees." Paul laughed heartily before patting Patryck’s shoulder, taking a moment before placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

Pat smiled, pulling the other into a brief hug. Paul was right, what are the chances of something happening? “Thank you, I feel a little better now. We’ll be back within hopefully about three hours.”  
Patryck walked into the room where Tord was, seeing him attempt to shove as much as he could into a small bag. “Easy there, you won’t need that much stuff.” He bent over to quickly sort through the items, discarding anything unnecessary. After a moment, Pat stood up, seeing that the pack weighed significantly less now. “Right, that’s much better.” Patryck hesitated for a moment, looking at the knife Paul had given him, then to Tord, who eyed him with confusion. “...Here, take this…” He passed the handle of the weapon to the other, who quickly grew more and more enthused as soon as he recognized the blade.  
  
“This is Paul’s… He trusts me with this?” Tord looked overjoyed.  
Patryck laughed tensely, although the Norwegian didn’t seem to notice. “I suppose so… Just, promise me you’ll never use it unless you absolutely have to.”

For a moment the orphan was taken aback by how serious Pat had seemingly just gotten. “I… Yeah, I promise.

Patryck let out a breath of relief. “That’s good. I’ll grab my things, then we can go.”

  
While Tord couldn’t wait for their expedition, Pat felt trepidation building in his stomach. 


	6. Keep this place beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exploration, planning for the future, food!
> 
> Wow!
> 
> ...It's all just filler, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HolyshitImdone.
> 
> That took me a million years to edit, but I did it. 
> 
> Due to how long this chapter is, it was a drag to get through. That, and, not much happens. 
> 
> Yo, Cat! We got to write some action soon! :0
> 
> Sorry for taking so long to get this out, btw. I've been busy with stuff and didn't have much time to write my bits.
> 
> ~Pilocene

Paul took a moment to look at Tom, who seemed rather upset. "Do you have anything to read?" He asked. 

Paul paused for a moment, getting up to look through the items he owned before the war. Sadly, all he had was an old model magazine lying around. Reluctantly, he handed it to Tom. "Sorry, when I can I'll go look for something else."

With all the talk of reading, this caused the young Mormon to realize something: he'd lost the book of Latter Day Saints in the explosion. 

Paul could sense Tom’s discomfort but had no idea why the other suddenly became so distressed. 

Was he hungry?

He wasn’t as malnourished as Tord, but he definitely looked like he needed something to eat.  
Paul began searching through the jerky rack for some slabs had made prior, grabbing a small piece before handing it to Tom.

He grabbed it with both hands, straining his injured arm which caused Paul some worry, before biting into the dried meat. “Hey, hey, one hand buddy, You’re gonna hur-- make it worse.”

Tom’s glossy black eyes glanced at him then back at his food as he put his injured arm back down. Eventually, he just ended up shoving the rest of the slice into his mouth due to not having a strong enough grip.

This was going to be hard.

~~~

The wasteland never seemed to change; no vegetation, barely any sunlight, and the world around them was still and dull. The sleet underfoot was thick and hard, unlike the snow back home. It used to feel like walking on foam that would crunch underneath every step.

Tord could spot frequent but sparse patches of long grass growing through the snow, much of it untouched due to any herbivores fearing other creatures around the area.

The Norsk took a moment to look upwards, seeing the polluted sky and clouds of ash that held the sun from shining upon them.

Patryck’s chocolate colored hair was still somehow easily gleaming in the little sunlight there was. His bangs were surprisingly well trimmed and taken care of for the apocalypse. Huh. His skin was soft and easily definable, and he had a sharp hooked nose that was well shaped, unlike Paul’s, that looked almost the complete opposite. 

Tord caught himself staring at Patryck more than the area around them.

He’d noticed that their footsteps were in sync despite Patryck’s long limbs that stretched out and marched through.

Tord had trouble keeping up, yet he didn’t stumble. He moved step after step as they marched towards the sun. It looked like nothing was out there.

He looked up at the sky once again, feeling soft specks of snow float down onto his nose.

For once, he didn’t fear the cold and instead just smiled.

The silence was nice. 

Paul wasn’t one for words, but he did like to talk, while Patryck had lots to say but preferred not to speak often.

Tord began to think quietly to himself, his small mind filling with questions.

When Paul said he and Pat met before the war, what was it like?

Were they different people from how they are now?  
If so, what changed and why?

Tord snapped back into attention, hearing Patryck’s steps suddenly stop.

He looked at the Polish man, examining him before briefly looking at what the other was gazing at.

Pat's voice was quiet, almost fearful, shattering the silence. “Tord, do you think we could find some form of education out here?” He continued speaking before Tord could respond. “I know Tom can most likely help out with figuring out a lesson plan, but, well, there’s a reason Paul joined the military.”

A smile suddenly grew on Pat's face while he nudged Tord lightly with his elbow. “He flunked high school.”

Tord raised his eyebrows in surprise. He certainly did not expect that.

“Honestly, when he told me that it was so hard to not laugh. He told me that he just stopped caring. He didn’t worry about having a nice job, or home, or any of that.” Patryck gave Tord a comforting shrug. “That’s most likely why he doesn’t really mind living like this. I honestly look up to that; he doesn’t let things change his mindset-- no matter how terrifying or upsetting something may be. He keeps moving forward. He reminds me of you in that way.”

Tord looked up at Patryck in surprise, his big, light grey eyes filled with astonishment.

“I’m not saying to not change, but don’t let anything change you.” Pat ruffled the Norwegians hair. 

He sighed; It was already getting dark.

They hadn’t found anything, but at least they knew what was around.

“C’mon, let’s head back.”

~~~

The process of reminding Tom to be careful with his injuries was, slow going, for lack of a better term. Paul had to really keep a constant eye on him to be sure he didn’t hurt himself more than he already has. “I know this is new for you, but you have to really be careful-- try to have no unnecessary movements.” Every time Tom jostled his arm it caused Paul to wince. 

The crazy-haired male looked back at him, nodding, which caused his hair to erratically move with him. Tom took a moment, trying to flatten the strands with his good hand like his mother once had. After all, rambunctious haircuts were not holy. However, his hair wasn’t cooperating, as it continued to stand upright.

Paul found Tom’s effort to fix his hair quite amusing, having to stifle a laugh. “I believe you need a trim there, buddy. I think it’s kind of neat looking, truthfully.” 

Tom looked back at the other, thinking for a moment and glancing around. “Can you cut my hair, please?” He paused, finding that idea to be terrifying. “Wait, nevermind-- I’ll just use water to make it go down.”

“I mean, if you really want me to I will, just don’t expect anything good to come from that.” Paul’s laugh was boisterous in response. “Last time I did that was when I was… Sixteen, maybe? Went about as well as you would expect.” 

“Agh, I like my hair but the lord would not,” Tom explained quietly, quickly spitting into his hand and attempting to slick a piece back. it went down-- then quickly popped upright once again.

Paul grinned. “I think you should just leave it if you like it. That, and, pretty sure the only way to fix that mess would be to shave your head. I’m assuming you don’t want that, so~.” 

Tom shot a slight glare at Paul, who raised an eyebrow in response. “Are you always like this?” He questioned softly. But before the other could respond, he shot the man a cheeky grin. “Of course you are. So, tell me why exactly I can’t go out with them? It’s not like I’ll feel it if I damage the healing bone.”

Paul’s expression turned lightly glowered. “Just because you can’t feel it doesn’t mean you should hurt yourself anymore. If your body doesn’t have the opportunity to heal then that can cause a whole nother swath of problems.” He sighed. “Just take my word that it’s better you rest.” 

Tom sighed in defeat before laying back. He carefully examined the sturdy walls of the bunker, then looked back at Paul, recalling something he’d read before. “Switzerland has one of the largest numbers of nuclear fallout shelters in the world-- enough to sustain three times their population.”

Now that was interesting.

“You’d think they would already have been raided if there was that many, though. Hmm…” Paul thought for a moment. “Truthfully, I’m not sure how much longer we can stay here. Raider groups are getting larger and more confident, not to mention food is becoming increasingly sparse.” It was clear this was a topic that had been on the mind of the Dutchman for a while. “We’ll have to do something about it, eventually.” 

“I’m not so sure. It would be hard to defend your territory with such few people that have the ability to fight. You will need more weapons and resources. Considering the weather in Ukraine, the possibility of raiders being able to survive here is low out in the plains. Past the amusement park, there is lots of wildlife and covering; we will be more protected there. However, there is less snow as well, meaning it does have more dangerous wildlife.”

Paul sighed. “I’ll have to talk it over with Pat and Tord-- Jesus, everything is just such a mess. Hopefully they’ll be back soon.” 

Tom shot the other a rather annoyed glare before letting out a soft sigh. “I’m confident they’re alright,” The Brit replied. He closed his eyes in an attempt to relax, but was itching to actually use his brain. He needed to do something-- anything. He hated sitting around, unless. He was focused on a topic, at least.

“Yeah, let’s hope,” Paul finally responded. 

There was a beat of silence between the two, which was then immediately followed by the loud bang of the door being opened far too quickly, briefly giving both of them a heart attack. 

“There ain’t crap!” Pat loudly announced, Tord following behind him with a tad less vigor. 

“Is Tom okay?” The Norwegian asked, his expression laced with concern.

Tom laughed quietly, facing the other child but not bothering to move from his spot. “Undoubtedly, when I’m in Paul’s gentle care,” He responded sarcastically.

Tom’s reply caused Tord to look at Paul, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “Is that so?” 

Pat laughed. “I’m sure they were massive party animals while we were away.” He shut the door behind them, tapping off some of the snow on his shoes so he wouldn’t track it around. 

Tom cracked a slight grin before facing the wall again, closing his eyes in an attempt to distract himself from the situation.

Paul just rolled his eyes with a slight grumble. “Right... Anyway, Tom had some ideas for a safe settlement. He says there are more wildlife and food out past an amusement park somewhere, and chances are there's much higher protection from the blizzards as well.”

This caught Pat’s attention. “Oh? Where would that be?” 

“South of Chernobyl, past the amusement park. The local wildlife thrives and so does the land. It’s covered in hills and cliffs with plant growth. It will be easy to find food, but the only struggle is finding a secure spot near a river without it being close to dangerous native carnivores.” 

Patryck thought briefly. “Do you think we should head there, Paul? Sounds like it would be a good move to make.” 

“I guess, but we would have to look for a habitual spot and build a shelter before abandoning our camp here. I also fear of bandits taking this place over while we’re gone… After all, we have running electricity, water, and decent stability…”

Pat hummed in thought and looked to Tord. “It is possible, however, we will need this place in case of an emergency. Maybe we could set up a lock?” 

Tord nodded. “Where would we find one of those, though?” 

Tom paused, thinking. “So, this bunker didn’t have a lock in it? That's strange… But it could be plausible to…” He trailed off in thought, unsure himself. “We could use the possible new shelter as a second establishment, while this could be our main camp?”

“I think that’d be a good plan,” Pat stated. “Hopefully it doesn’t get raided while we’re away, though.” 

Paul nodded, sighing softly “Somebody will have to stay here and watch this place while everyone is gone, though. Should we wait until we get a lock to leave?”

A look of uncertainty crossed Patryck’s face. “I don’t know how I feel about leaving someone here, truthfully. What if one of us got hurt while the other were away?” 

“You guys don't have flares? Radios? Walkie-talkies?” Tom chimed, confused on how this bunker was so unprepared. Usually, the Ukrainian government was more active in preparation. “Normally you'd have lots of things to communicate already in here."

Pat hummed. “We used to, right? A lot of that stuff got used up quickly, though. Walkie-talkies are out of batteries, I believe, we have no more flares, and last I recall the radio is broken. Before we do anything we’ll have to fix that whole mess.” 

Tom interjected. “I am certain that there are batteries still in town, we will just have to go look for them. However, I don't think I could run out just yet due to my arm. But, if you find any books on handiness and repairs, I could learn how to fix up anything broken to be useful.”

Tom was clever and eager to learn. He wasn't very proud but was indeed very confident in himself. He knew that with logic and education he could learn to do anything. “There should be batteries in an Auto-Market. My parents went there for tools often and didn’t need the batteries due to our generator.”

Pat looked at Tom, a shocked expression on his face. “Wait, really? You could fix the radio?” Patryck glanced from Tom, then to Paul. “Now we just have to find batteries, I suppose. When I have time I’ll head into town and look for some.” 

Paul nodded. “Hey, I bet he’d be really good at assembling guns.”

“That’s against the way of god, but I suppose if we had too, I would.” Tom shrugged. Even if people were bad, they didn't deserve to die; neither do animals-- they're all God’s children. Tom snapped out of his thoughts before looking up at Patryck “It’s best we settle down for the night, how do the shifts work here?”

Paul gulped and laughed awkwardly. “Oh right, Yeah back in the military… night shifts. We don't exactly do that anymore here…”

The Mormon shot him a rather unimpressed and slightly angered expression.  
“You don’t?”

Patryck was slightly taken aback by Tom’s sudden shift in tone. “No, not really. Things have been relatively quiet recently, and even then, chances are we’d know if something was around. That’s why we scout the area before we sleep. Usually.” 

“Usually? That’s extremely dangerous. Agh, I’ll set up the schedule. I’ll be the first night. I can’t do anything, anyway.”

“Sleep,” Paul snapped back, only get a humored grin from Tom. 

“I’ll sleep in all day, no biggie!”

Patryck laughed gently, giving Tom a look. “Thank you, but there really is no need. We have been fine for as long as we’ve been here. If it would make you more comfortable, however, Paul or I could watch. I don’t know how I’d feel about one of you two playing guard.” 

Tom's expression was unreadable. “You guys are the most active and can both cover much more land and resources. Tord could also go out and join you, so I suppose one of you could, but even then I won't really be doing anything,” He pointed out, obviously upset that he’d be most likely bored.

Pat sighed. “Yes, that is true, but Paul and I are also adults, and need less rest. As for what you can be doing, Tom; sleep. Your injuries won’t be getting any better if you’re constantly moving about.” 

Tom sighed and nodded in response. He was too tired, too tired to get his point across. “Alright. I say Paul should do the night shift since you and Tord did the search. That way you would have much more energy tomorrow” 

Patryck nodded. “You alright with that, Paul?” 

“I’m not tired, so I guess I could. I’ll spend the majority of the night repairing my guns." Paul shrugged, really having no opinion on the situation. 

“Okay, sounds like a plan, then.” Pat looked at Tom and Tord. “You two head off to bed, I need to talk with Paul for a moment-- also, Tord, show Tom where he can sleep, would you?” 

Tord nodded and grinned, pulling Tom off to the other room (while being cautious of his injured arm). 

With the two children gone, Pat turned his attention back to Paul. “You sure you’re going to be all good?” 

“Yeah, I’m not a night-owl like you, but I’ll be alright. I’ll spend the majority of my time just checking up on everything. I should think of plans for defense additions to our fort…”

Pat sighed, still slightly worried. “Alright, but don’t hesitate to tag me in if you need to…” 

~~~

Tom glanced at the small room, knowing he’d be sharing it with Tord and Pat. The room had a rug covered floor, unlike the living area. He noticed where the most shredded and ripped blankets were, most likely where they slept during the colder nights.

“Well, there’s not much to it, but It’s home, I suppose.” Tord turned to Tom, a large but tired grin on his face. 

“I’m used to sleeping on the floor. This is a much-wanted upgrade,” Tom responded with a soft smile.

Hearing this only caused Tord’s enthusiasm to grow. “Well, it’s good Paul found you, then!” He pointed to a small pile of jumbled blankets in the room. “That’s usually where I sleep-- you’ll most likely be sharing with me, sorry.” 

“Why are you sorry? It means more warmth for me!” Tom joked, s shimmer of amusement in his glossy black eyes. He shrugged. “It’s not like you’ll punch me in your sleep or something of the sort”

“Hey, you never know! But really, I just assumed you’d prefer to be by yourself, truthfully.”

Tom didn’t respond. He carefully took the lead, laying against the wall so he could give the other more space, before carefully putting his arm down. Laying much like a sardine before closing his eyes.

Tom slept like this due to his paranoia, knowing if he heard something he could instantly jump up.

~~~

Tord woke up groggily, taking a moment to rub the sleep from his eyes so he could actually see. He looked to his left to see Tom, still sleeping-- although very lightly. 

There were no windows in the room, just slim rectangular openings, filtered by tight mesh. It was obviously utilitarian, made purely for letting in light. Beams shone across the blanket covered floor, illuminating dust floating in the air.

The man of the night was currently working breakfast, making a soup from the meat they’d gotten earlier. Sadly, he did not add any of the ingredients that he usually did, following a simple recipe his family always made.

It was a stew similar to a slow brew of rosemary, thyme, and other winter surviving plants they had. Most of it being improvised. 

While the smell of the soup wasn’t exactly appetising, it was still something to eat. Slowly but surely Tord managed to untangle himself from the bunch of blankets, doing his best to not disturb Tom. 

Paul grinned, seeing Tord-- getting an idea. He took a moment to search through the ice box, finding some salt and dried up garlic before chopping it up into tiny bits to mix into the soup. He took a moment to add some more salt, then poured Tord a bowl. It smelt much better, not bland like most Russian recipes-- having a more middle-age American smell.

As soon as he was handed the bowl, Tord looked up at Paul and grinned. “Looks like you actually cooked something decent!” Without any further words, he took a generous gulp from the dish, being actually surprised by the taste. “Huh, not bad!” 

Paul let out a hearty laugh, grinning at the male. His thick eyebrows raised in amusement. “Thanks. I know that you guys don’t like what I eat, so I did my best to make something you all can enjoy without getting heartburn for a week!”

Tord chuckled. “Well, I appreciate it, and I’m sure Patryck does too.” He took a quick glance around the room. “Speaking of, where is he?” 

“Ah, I believe he went out to get some water. He’ll be alright. It’s usually hard to find untainted snow,” Paul explained.

Soon after, Tom walked into the room. He first took notice of the bowls, surprised, due to his family always eating prepared meals made in factories. “What’s this?”

“Borscht," Paul began. "But it’s meaty and salty instead of sour.”

“Never heard of it…”

Tord looked at Tom. “It’s actually pretty good considering Paul made it. You should have some-- give you more energy to help heal your body.” Tord grabbed a bowl that had been put off to the side and handed it to Tom. 

Tom carefully grabbed the metal spoon that was neatly placed in the bowl to avoid it falling in. Soon after, he noticed that for once he used his non-dominant hand, the uninjured one, before starting to drink the soup. It was fresh, not sugar based like what he was used to, but it was good! Much better than everything else he ever had before.

“This is AMAZING!”

Tom’s very enthused reaction surprised Tord. “Wow, ok-- didn’t expect that. Guess you did good, then, Paul.” The look he threw at the older man could only be described as derision incarnate. 

“This kid seriously needs to eat actual food,” Paul muttered under his breath. 

Before anyone could respond, whatever they may have wanted to say was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. 

It was Patryck, carrying a large bucket filled to the brim with snow. “What’s all the commotion about? I heard Tom through the door.” He placed the bucket on the floor with a grunt, standing back up before walking over to the three. 

“Paul’s cooking is fantastic! This is absolutely amazing,” Tom praised with a large grin. He quickly returned to his bowl, savoring it.

Paul looked severely concerned for Tom.

The same could be said for Patryck, as he had an expression on his face which clearly indicated he thought the boy was crazy. “Are you okay, Tom? Paul’s cooking is usually good at best, but almost never fantastic. Did you catch the flu last night?” Pat put the back of his hand to Tom’s forehead to see that, he was, in fact fine. 

“I’m so used to instant mashed potatoes and expired bread-- I've never had anything like this! The most natural thing I’ve eaten before was canned corn!” Tom explained with a grin, then swiftly taking another bite. Unlike Paul, he didn’t talk with his mouth full.

Pat’s face could only be summed up as horrified. “Well, that explains the malnourishment, I suppose. Goodness, most people would have just gotten scurvy and dropped dead. You sure are an odd one, Tom.” 

“Well, I mean, we did have those vitamin supplements,” Tom explained after finishing off his bowl. “I’m not saying I feel healthy or anything of the sort. I will admit that I don’t feel good as I did before the war, but I do not feel like it is life-threatening to an extent.”

Patryck thought for a moment and grinned. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to cook more often for you, then, Tom!” He paused and looked at Paul. “Although, chances are I’ll be doing more of that than him. Good food from Paul is an anomaly.” 

Tom laughed before nodding, smiling at the three happily. “Well, Even if that’s the case, I think it’ll be great either way!”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it.” Pat took Tom’s now empty bowl from his hand, walking to the other side of the room and placing it on the counter. “So, what’s the plan for today?” 

Paul thought for a moment, looking back at Patryck with a bored expression. “We could go look for a nice campsite in the forest area of Chernobyl,” he suggested with a rather dull tone.

Pat shrugged. “I suppose.” He looked to Tom and Tord. “Would you two be okay with that?” 

Tord hastily grinned, already filled with enthusiasm.


	7. WE'RE BACK!

We are editing the previous chapters, then we will continue; however we are looking for anybody who willing to write a chapter or two! 


End file.
